


Rites

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis is given to Ravus, though Regis has a card to play.
Relationships: Regis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Rites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfLions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfLions/gifts).

> A/N: Fill for MistressofLions’ “Since Regis is King he has the right to the 'first night' before any marriage, old law that never got disbanded, but funny enough this isnt they're first night together. So after Ignis gets trapped somehow in a marriage contract and the supposed first night, Regis just shreds the marriage contract, causing a slight scandal.” request on [my dreamwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Ignis signs his life away with the flick of a pen, but he swallows down the galling pain it brings him, replacing it with a sense of elegance and calm. He’s spent his whole life around the Citadel, training for just this sort of moment—he knows how to remain diplomatic in the face of danger. He slides the contract across the table towards his Imperial counterpart, and Ravus snatches it up with none of Ignis’ dignity. 

He takes a quick second to skim the first few paragraphs, but then the Emperor pointedly coughs, and Ravus’ scowl deepens. He signs his name below Ignis’. Ravus’ glare flickers up to Ignis, boring into him as though _he’s_ the cause of all this, when really, he’s just as much a victim. But he faces it better than Ravus does. He bears Ravus no ill will. For the sake of his country, Ignis would do almost anything. He’d certainly take a proverbial bullet for his prince. He feels a deep sense of sadness but no regret. Given the chance, he would do the exact same thing again. 

Iedolas peels the top copy off of the carbon imprint and leaves that bottom layer there. Ravus makes no move towards it, so Ignis reaches out and rolls it up, simply to get it off the table. The first copy will be preserved, kept on the official record. The second is little more than a party favour. Ignis tucks it into the inside pocket of his suit without any protest from Ravus. 

“I would’ve preferred the prince,” Iedolas drawls, as though any of them care what he wants. 

The king’s expression tightens, but it’s been pinched for the bulk of the proceedings. He coldly returns, “As we would have preferred the Oracle.”

Iedolas lifts a brow as though to say ‘well played.’ His weathered face twists into a sly smile that makes Ignis’ skin crawl. He agrees, “If neither of us is willing to go that far yet, this should be a start. They’ll be wed first thing in the morning.” Ravus makes a choking noise that’s quickly swallowed down. Ignis says nothing. Iedolas leans forward across the table, folding his wrinkled hands together. He announces for the entire council, “There will be no need to bother with a large ceremony; at least we can agree on that. Let us have it done.”

“There will be an official ceremony,” Regis corrects, though he looks no more pleased about it than he has anything since they all sat down. “The people will want to see a show of our cooperation. And the... couple... will reside here afterwards, in our capital.”

Iedolas nods. “But your general will return to ours.”

Regis inclines his head in the barest fraction of a nod. There’s a tense moment where more could be said, perhaps between Ignis and his new husband, but Ravus seems keen to flee. Ignis bows when Iedolas scrapes his chair back and rises to his feet, Ravus tense but swift behind him. 

The Emperor mutters, “Well, now that that’s finished, we may as well retire. ...Shall we leave the lovebirds together?”

Ravus sneers so hard at Iedolas’ back that it’s a wonder his coat doesn’t go up in flames. Ignis quietly accepts his fate. He knows he could do far worse than one awkward night with a stranger, spent facing opposite ends of a large, royal bed. If it will bring peace, Ignis will suffer it every night for the rest of his life. 

But Regis answers, “No. I am invoking the first right.”

Ignis’ head whips around. Ravus’ brows knit together, and several of the council members pointedly look away. Iedolas frowns deeply. 

Regis lifts his icy gaze to Iedolas, but then it drifts to Ignis, still hardened but without the palpable hatred. He announces for them all, “I will claim Ignis Scientia for his first night promised in marriage, as is my right as king.”

Iedolas scoffs. He mutters, as though he could possibly care who Ignis lies with first, “And you still enact such archaic laws even now? Lucis has fallen further than I thought.”

“I never have in my reign,” Regis answers, equally as strong. “But I do so now.” He fixes Iedolas with another challenging stare that Iedolas eventually breaks from. He waves his hand, like acknowledging that it doesn’t matter to him. They both know the political marriage is only a sham, and both men are likely doomed to misery, but it will somewhat settle their people. Iedolas makes a move towards the door, his guards moving to trail him, and the Lucian councilors bowing. Ravus actually has the nerve to look _annoyed_, glaring between Regis and Ignis as though they’ve robbed him of something he never would have had in the first place. He leaves after his emperor, and the councilors follow suit when Regis nods for them to do so. Ignis lingers until no one’s left in the grand hall but his king and the stationed guards. 

Then Regis rises. Ignis follows him, hardly daring to breathe. They walk out into the hall together, Regis’ face unreadable stone. They remain silent in the empty elevator. Even on Regis’ floor, through his personal quarters, Ignis has no words. 

Regis sheds his cape on the way. His shoes come off, and Ignis wants to offer to help but is still speechless. Still in his suit, Regis finally meanders through to his large bedroom. He takes a seat on the old mattress, between the red curtains of his four-poster bed. He lets out a little sigh when he lands—Ignis knows the entire delegation has been nothing but tiring. 

Ignis comes to stand before him. It’s the most painful moment of all: looking down at Regis Lucis Caelum, the most handsome, wise, and compassionate man that Ignis has ever known, and knowing that Ignis will never share his bed again. It’s been an honour to lie with him at all, but Ignis would happily trade all the trimmings and dressings for just the two of them, without the mess of politics and duty. Finally, with the two of them alone, Regis allows his expression to soften.

He murmurs, “I am sorry, Ignis.” He lifts his hands, which Ignis instantly takes. Regis’ hands are slightly larger than his, rougher, scarred from age and the weight of the crystal. Ignis has always enjoyed feeling their warmth brush over him. 

He swallows down the lump in his throat and insists, “No. I am glad to do it. If it will bring an end to this war, and if it can spare Noct, I’m grateful.”

Regis’ frown is heavy. He looks into Ignis’ eyes, and Ignis forces himself to smile, though he’s sure it can’t look natural. Regis orders, “Give me the contract.”

Ignis begrudgingly withdraws his hands. He fetches the copy from the inside of his jacket. Regis’ eyes remain fixed on Ignis’ as he accepts it. He unrolls it, then rips it squarely down the middle.

Ignis’ eyes go wide. He watches, in shock, as Regis shreds the contract into tiny pieces. He lets them flutter to the floor, littering his shoes and the polished checkerboard tile. He says, “It will remain in the official records, and I hope it may waylay the war a little longer. Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret will be moved into the Citadel, but his bed is not the one you will share. Not so long as your feelings remain the same as mine.”

Ignis can’t remember ever feeling otherwise. He chokes back a tremour that’s suddenly taken over him. He can feel his face scrunching up, his eyes wanting to leak. But he clenches his hands and holds it back. He’s too old to crumble so easily. 

Instead, he climbs carefully into his king’s lap. He wraps his arms around Regis’ broad shoulders, his fingers threading through Regis’ greying hair. He feels Regis’ hands splay across his back and draw him in, pull him close, and he doesn’t know which of them starts the kiss, only that they come together as easily as they always do. Ravus might be a fine young man. He’s certainly closer to Ignis’ age. But he could never be a tenth of the man that Regis is, because no one is—he’s the North Star that’s always guided Ignis. Ignis should’ve known that Regis wouldn’t forsake him now. 

Ignis breaks the kiss when he realizes that he’s crying. He doesn’t wipe the tears away because he can’t seem to move his hands from Regis’ body. Instead, he just scrunches his eyes closed and tries to will it down. He whispers, “I will always be yours, Your Majesty, no matter what else should pass.”

“I know this,” Regis softly agrees. His body is so warm against Ignis’, so reassuring. He rubs a soothing circle over Ignis’ back and promises, “There was never any scenario where I would have truly let you go.”

A twisted chuckle spills out of Ignis’ throat. He murmurs, “I can’t believe you claimed first right over me.”

Regis smiles tenderly. “I admit, it was a tad presumptuous.”

Ignis shakes his head. It wasn’t presumptuous at all. He hopes Regis finds similar excuses until the Emperor is gone, and Ignis can sneak into his room every night. 

Ignis kisses him hard, then harder, guiding him back down until he hits the mattress, and Ignis can hover over him, wildly in love. 

Ignis begs, “Please, Your Majesty. ...Claim what else is yours.”

So Regis smiles and pulls Ignis down to him.


End file.
